


you can like the life you're living (you can live the life you like)

by mardia



Category: Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Alternate Reality, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-07
Updated: 2012-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-01 14:12:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU version of 2x01. Peter's reaching out for her, and Alicia's phone is still vibrating in her hand, Will's name on the screen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can like the life you're living (you can live the life you like)

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the song "Nowadays", originally from the soundtrack to _Chicago_.

Peter's reaching out for her, and Alicia's phone is still vibrating in her hand, Will's name on the screen. Despite the bright flashes of light, Alicia can still see Peter's face, the smile on his face fading away, to be replaced with growing alarm. 

Her husband's reaching out for her, and she can't make herself take his hand. But there's no time to think, the moment's passing and one way or another, she has got to move—

Eli Gold's at her shoulder, reaching out for her phone, saying in her ear, "Go on, it'll be here when you get back—" and he's reaching for her phone as he pushes at her shoulder, but Alicia pulls her hand away, gripping her phone tightly, even as she's propelled onto the stage, even as her free hand finds its way into Peter's. 

As Alicia stares out into the sea of reporters, her phone's gone silent and still in her hand, and Alicia can feel her stomach dropping down to somewhere in the vicinity of her feet, and is almost surprised at herself. She keeps her face still, careful not to let it show, careful to keep her face turned toward Peter as if she's listening, but, not a few minutes later, when her phone starts to vibrate again, Alicia can't help the tiny little start she gives, or the quick glance downwards, to make sure that it is Will's name on the screen again.

It is him, and Alicia exhales slowly and lifts her head back up, wiping her face clean of any expression as she does. But she holds it in her head, the fact of it, giving herself a distraction from the loud clicks and flashes of the cameras, from the memory of the last time she was on a stage like this one, dazed and unprepared. 

Alicia has to admit, this is not an experience she wanted to relive again.

*

Alicia doesn't get the chance to check her phone until much later that night. After the press conference, in which it's carefully arranged so that she doesn't answer any of the questions that are hastily shouted at her, she and Peter get into a car with Eli, headed back to home. 

Eli and Peter do most of the talking, discussing the campaign headquarters that are about to open, the push for volunteers, the interviews they'll be lining up. Alicia listens with only one ear, her hands folded in her lap, one of her thumbs running along the edge of her phone.

At one point during the ride, she looks up to see Eli watching her, glancing down to her hands. When he notices her watching him back, he gives her a quick half-smile. "Busy time at work?"

"Always," Alicia says, making the corners of her mouth quirk up for a moment in response.

*

It's not until she's alone in her bedroom that she finally checks her phone. Peter's outside with Eli, the kids are already asleep in their beds. 

Alicia sits down on the edge of her bed, her jacket beside her, takes a breath, and listens to the two messages Will left.

The first has her pressing her lips together tightly, fighting back the sense of—it's not disappointment. This is what she wanted from him, the acknowledgment that it was complicated, that there were good, solid reasons for not pursuing this. She can't get upset because he's decided to agree with her. 

Letting out a breath, Alicia saves the message, and then goes on to listen to the second one. 

It's the second message that has her forgetting how to breathe. 

_“My plan is I love you, okay?“_

Her mind is buzzing. She listens to the message once, then again, and then once more on top of that. 

_“I've probably loved you—ever since Georgetown.“_

Alicia exhales, and breathes in deep. 

_“So phone me, I'll meet you anywhere, and we will make a plan.“_

Alicia indulges herself, and listens to it one last time. Then she exits her voicemail, and stares down at the floor for one moment, before she inhales deeply, and thumbs through her phonebook, until she gets to Will's name, and hits the call button.

*

Will picks up on the first ring.

*

Alicia leaves home the next morning at a very early hour, and only feels a tiny twinge of guilt when she tells Peter she's leaving for work. Technically it's true—she will be heading to work today. After she meets Will at his apartment.

There is a certain logic to it, if she thinks about it. With Peter announcing his determination to run, there will be a certain amount of press attention on her always. And she remembers that moment in the hotel—the women smiling at her knowingly, Duke Roscoe's innuendo. It's just safer, easier, to meet Will somewhere private, somewhere where they won't be seen or overheard.

At least, that's what Alicia tells herself, anyway.

Will answers the door in a sweatshirt and jeans, with a nervous smile. "Hey," he says, immediately stepping aside to let her in. "Have to admit, I wasn't—I wasn't sure you were going to come."

"I wasn't sure of that myself," Alicia admits, shifting her shoulders nervously. "But—we should talk."

"We should," Will agrees. "Do you want anything, coffee or juice or—"

"No, I'm fine," Alicia says quickly, then reconsiders. She could use something to keep her hands occupied. "Actually, coffee would be great."

Will's place is both nothing like and exactly what she expected it to be—it's exactly the sort of place you'd expect an attorney like Will to live in, with the dark leather furniture and the big-screen TV, and it's also a million miles away from the tiny studio apartment Will had in college.

Will leads her into the large kitchen, and she sits down at the table while he fusses with the complicated-looking coffee machine. Neither of them say much, and Alicia stares at her hands a lot, but all the while refusing to focus on her left hand.

"I'm glad you're here," Will says now, his back turned to her. "We—we should talk. About this." He doesn't say _us_ , but that's what she hears anyway.

He turns back to face her, holding two coffee mugs, and holds one out to her before sitting down. He doesn't have to ask her how she takes it.

Alicia takes a sip before saying anything. It's good coffee. "What you said, last night, in the voicemail," she starts, her voice high with nerves, and then stops, because she doesn't know what to say next. Asking him if he meant it is pointless—she knows he meant it. Asking if he still means it now is just—there _was_ a point, earlier, in not pressing this issue, back when she'd honestly believed it couldn't go anywhere. There was some rationale in not thinking about it, in actively avoiding it as much as she could.

But now she's here anyway, and she can't—she _has_ to think about it. Deal with it. 

"Alicia," Will says, cutting into her train of thought, his voice serious, "—if you want to stop all this right now, you can. I promise."

She does look up at that, and his face is nothing but sincere, and seeing that, hearing him say that, is what finally gets her to relax. Not because she has the out, but because he gave it to her in the first place.

So Alicia looks Will in the eyes, and says the truth. "I have two kids who love their dad. And everything I do affects them. I can't ignore that, I won't ignore that."

"I wouldn't want you to."

She nods, and continues. "And—and Peter, he—" She stops again, sighs. When she speaks again, it's to say something she never thought she'd even let herself think, let alone say out loud. "This is not going to sound very good, but I have never wanted to be my mother. I have never wanted to be the person who—who could end up getting married more than once."

She looks at Will, and he looks—resigned. Like he knows exactly where this is going, which would be quite a feat, since Alicia doesn't know herself.

So she says, the words coming out of her in a quiet rush, "I listened to your voicemail at least four times before I called you back. I just wanted to—keep listening." Admitting that much makes her feel light-headed, and the lightness in Will's expression, the way he's only barely holding back a smile—

It makes things better, easier. Still, Alicia has to admit, "I don't, I don't want this to be about moving right from one relationship to another. I don't want you to be—"

"A safety net," Will finishes, and nods. "I get that. I'm not exactly looking to be the rebound guy, Alicia. If—" he pauses, then says, "If we're doing this, then I want to be in for the long haul." He gives her a faint, deprecating smile, and admits, "That's not something I say often, by the way."

It's easy to smile back. "I'm glad."

Her smile seems to give Will courage, because he says, "I know that this is complicated. I'm not trying to negate that, or pretend like it'll be a walk in the park. But I want this. I want _you_."

Alicia stares into his face and doesn't move, doesn't think, doesn't even breathe, she just—looks at him, hears him say these things, and she just wants to—

It almost doesn't feel real, her hand moving away from the mug, sliding forward to brush against his. She traces the veins on the back of his hand, lets her fingertips trail along his skin, brushing his knuckles. Will glances down for a moment, and she thinks she sees him inhale before he looks back up and meets her gaze.

"Tell me what you want," Will says, his eyes dark, "—and that's what we're gonna do, okay?"

_I'm really going to do this_ , Alicia thinks, realizes. And she knows she'll be anxious later, knows that none of this will be easy or simple, no matter how it seems now. 

But right now she's got Will in front of her, offering her exactly what she wants, and she's not going to turn it down. She's not going to turn him down.

It's easy to get up and move towards him in his chair. Easy, so easy, to lean down and kiss him, to follow the tilt of his head, the warm press of his mouth on hers. _Okay_ , she thinks in her head as her fingers skim his cheek. 

"Okay," she murmurs when she pulls away, and the answering look on Will's face is—something Alicia's looking forward to seeing from him more often. 

*

Things aren't going to become simpler because Alicia wants them to be, or because she's made a decision. In fact, they're just going to become much harder. Everything she does from this point on is going to affect so many people. It's going to be hard, and long, and there are absolutely no guarantees about much of anything, going forward.

She knows that. Alicia's eyes are clear, and she won't walk into this with any illusions. She knows what she's getting into, and the many problems she's about to face.

So she doesn't linger in Will's apartment, much as both of them would like her to. She leaves, and nods at the doorman, and when she gets in the car, it's to go straight to the job that she loves, to begin what is sure to be a very long day.

But all the same, when Alicia catches sight of herself in the rearview mirror—her reflection is smiling.


End file.
